


One Last Thing

by andicantspell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andicantspell/pseuds/andicantspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a highschool student with an inoperable brain tumor who is invited on television by a wish-granting organization and stuns viewers with his unconventional request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Stiles, where’s your dad today?” Asked Doctor Razzleplatt as he walked into his office, holding what he could only assume would be his medical chart for the day containing the results of today’s tests. He looked up, tilting his head off to the side in thought. He was curious as to why Razzle would ask him that type of a question. By law Stiles was very much an adult or at least close enough to it. Adulthood was within his grasp. He didn’t need his father at his side holding his hand through these appointments. Today shouldn’t be any different. Granted this is the first time he has come to the office without the Sheriff trailing beside him with a protective arm around his shoulders, looking like a worried father. He watched the middle aged man take a seat in a chair that probably cost more than Stiles jeep times two behind his oddly neat desk. It bothered him to the extent of how neat it seemed. 

Doctor Razzleplatt set the file down in front of him and folding his hands over it, gently leaning forward in his chair. Stiles studied his face and he couldn’t pick anything up from it. It was unreadable, which only made him think the doctor would be awesome at poker. Like the kind that would be on ESPN in the tournaments winning a couple thousand, possibly millions. It was also very unnerving because he couldn’t tell if he was about to receive good or bad news, which put Stiles on the edge durning these appointments. He didn’t like walking into this room that he’s sat in what seems like a million times not knowing, not at least getting a feeling. Even just an inkling of one. But everytime he sat down with Razzle it left him with small knots forming in his stomach. 

He gave the man a small smile. “He’s at home, sleeping. Figured he deserved a mental health day.” Something his dad hadn’t really gotten over the past year. Stiles knew it was a risky move turning off his father’s alarm just to let him rest for once. Sometimes the Sheriff worried more about his son’s health than his own. Which in turn put the responsibility on Stiles’ shoulders to take care of his old man. “Why? Should I be concerned?”

The man let out a sigh and hung his head low for a brief moment before his gaze shifted back up to Stiles. “I think we should call him in.”

The knots in his stomach tightened and the palms of his hands started to feel sweaty, tensing against his knees. “I’ll be the judge of that,” Stiles replies calmly. “So, am I cured?”

“Stiles,” He paused before he started to speak, as if he was in search for the right words. “Your tumors have enlarged quite significantly over the past few months.” Those weren’t the words the boy was expecting to hear, ever, in fact coming out of the doctor’s mouth. Razzle always seemed so hopeful about remission with his case. It was aggressive but Razzle always made Stiles believe that there was hope. Maybe this whole time it was false hope to keep him fighting. It worked. It worked so well.

A silence hung in the air between the two of them as he sat in what now felt like an extremely uncomfortable chair. He wanted nothing more than to be out of this chair. His hands grasped the wooden arms before releasing his grip. Sliding his hands further down the curve of the arms and looking towards the doctor.  ”So more chemo?” Stiles asked, breaking the silence.

“I think at this point chemo would only make matters worse.”

“Radiation?” His voice sounding a bit hopeful which in the grand scheme of things being hopeful about getting radiation was pretty low.

Razzleplatt let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. “You know we can’t do that, Stiles.” He did know that but wanted to make sure. He was just running over all the normal options and when it all came down to it, he only had two options and they were both out. There was nothing else to rely on. This was it.

His head bobbed up and down, biting down hard on his lower lip before he spoke up again. “So, I guess we’ll be seeing less of each other,” He joked softly, his mouth turning up into a small grin. Humor was his default setting for situations like these. His brain always rerouted to humor to make things less difficult to deal with for the people around him. It never seemed to work but it made Stiles feel better about it. Except in this case when he earned no laugh or smile or barely even a twitch at the corner of the doctor’s mouth. There was no response to his joke either, possibly because there was no response to it. “What’s the game plan then?”

“First, we call your father in.”

Stiles quickly protested this suggestion.  ”I disagree.” 

“What would you like to do then Stiles?”

“Give me a week or two to tell him on my own terms…and then we’ll both come back in for further talking,” He offered. It was the best he could do. If Stiles could he’d never tell his father. He’d zip his lips and throw away the proverbial key into the ocean and never speak of it again, just to save his father some grief. Let him keep a few more years of his life which he feared that every passing day he was losing more and more of. 

Razzleplatt looked less than pleased with Stiles’ suggestion but what could the good doctor do? The moment he got his father on the line it’d all go downhill from there. “All right, I have time in the afternoon on Friday. Tell Carol to book you then and I’ll see you and your father to further discuss options.”

Stiles nodded his head firmly. “Will do, Razzle. Will do.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse me for any spelling/grammar mistakes. i was just a little excited about finally finishing this bit and putting it out. i'll be fixing them asap.

It was a strange feeling being told you only have so much life left in you, even though Razzle never outright said those words. It wasn't that hard to figure out. It was still a basic math equation. Cancerous tumors on brain plus no medical treatments working equal larger tumors which equals dying. Sometimes Stiles hated how well he was in math because that wasn't an equation he ever wanted to add up on his own.

Pulling into the driveway right along side his father's SUV. He kind of wished his dad wasn't home right now. There was a part of him that hoped he had went back to the station on some urgent matters or forgotten paperwork or just stepped out to grab a cup of coffee. Stiles knew the second he walked through that door his dad would be there waiting for him. He could picture it rather clearly in his mind. His dad being seated at small kitchen table, his back facing the door with coffee cup mug glued to his hand, a cold breakfast of fried eggs sunny side up and bacon long since forgotten since he picked up the politics section of the newspaper. Stiles would walk through that door and his father would turn around and he'd know. He'd know instantly that Stiles was the bearer of bad news. 

He was dying.

Stiles didn't really enjoy the all too familiar feeling that was settling into his chest and clutching his heart like a vice grip slowly. His hands reaching up to grip the stirring wheel in front of him. Just to hold on to something solid but it wasn't working. Nothing was working.

Fuck, why did this have to happen now? 

Over the past year he thought he had comes to terms with fact that one day he might end up dying from this. The thought raced through his mind nearly everyday and it always came down to him being okay with it but maybe when it all came down to it. He really wasn't that okay with it, he just pretended to be. He's battled this for nearly a year now and he honestly thought maybe, just maybe, he was starting to get better. He gained some weight and didn't feel terrible all the time. Though here he sits in his beat up old jeep, losing the battle. He honestly thought he was getting somewhere, then suddenly. Just done. No white flag, nothing. It was a simple surrender your guns and ammo. It's all over folks you can head on home. No warning. 

Just done. 

Why out of all the billion of people in this world why was Stiles picked? What was the purpose of killing him off before he even graduated highschool? Fucking start his senior year. Before he had a chance to apply to colleges. Lose his fucking virginity. The chances of him living through any of those seemed so small. His date was cut short just before his life was started to begin. He was right on the edge where things really started happening or they could've happened, maybe they could have finally started happening. What would he know? Nothing because he'll never get to that point.

Stiles was dying and he was only eighteen years old.

He wanted to cry. He could the tears building up behind his eyes just waiting for him to blink and let the water dams break. The second he blinked it was all over. He didn't want to cry. Too many tears he shed over this, far too many. At this point how many times could he cry over having cancer? Though here Stiles sat in his jeep wanting nothing more than to cry. 

A knock on his window brought Stiles back only after causing him to jump out of his skin over the sudden noise. His tight hold on the stirring wheel loosened and his head turned only to see his dad standing there. He stared at his dad for a long moment, seeing his mouth move but for some reason he couldn't hear anything. Reaching forwards he rolled the window down. "What?"

"Son, What are you doing just sitting out here?"

"I'm dying." He blurted out. This wasn't how he planned on telling his dad. He was actually toying with the idea of not saying anything at all. It seemed like such an easy thing to do, keep his father in the dark. If he did tell him though this wasn't how he wanted it to be done. He wanted it to be inside their home, sitting because sitting always seemed to make bad news less painful. He wanted Scott there. He wanted to be inside. This wasn't how it was suppose to happen. The moment those words left his lips everything started break inside him. He could fell it. Like a line of domino's. That's all it took, just for one to fall over and start the chain reaction. His dad stared at him for what seemed like forever. He was regretting saying anything at all. The look on his face was enough to make Stiles crumble. God, why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut. Why couldn't he had done this better. Why did he have to mess this up. Why was he so fucking stupid? He could feel his hands starting to shake. 

He felt like his seat belt was holding him back, felt like he was being trapped in. He couldn't breathe. It was happening. He started to reach for his seatbelt, pulling at it. Stiles just wanted it off of him. He didn't want to be in this car anymore. He needed to be out, get out but he couldn't.

Maybe his dad noticed the signs or maybe it was the sudden confession but within in a blink of an eye the door was being swung open. "Stiles?" Trying to gain his son's attention but Stiles was too focused on trying to get out, his hands still pulling at the seat belt across his chest. It wasn't even a moment later his dad was reaching across him and undoing the seat belt for his son. Stiles pressed his back as hard against the back of seat as he could but the moment the seat belt started to reel back. He was scrambling to get out of the car, pushing past his dad, practically slamming into his father's SUV. Stiles fell to his knees beside the car, his forehead pressed against the cool metal of the door. His hands pressed firmly down on the hard concrete driveway. His father was talking in the background but all the words sounded so foreign. 

All Stiles could hear was the pounding of his heart in his chest in his ears. Felt like a hammer was coming down on his heart every few seconds. It hurt and it was so loud. He was going to die. He couldn't breathe, it was like being stuck in a vacuum. There was no air around him. This was how he was going to die. Cancer wasn't going to take him out. It was gonna be this. He was gonna die right now. 

"Stiles, you need to breathe." The Sheriff pleaded desperately, kneeling down next to Stiles. A hand hovered over his back, barely even touching. It's been so long since he's seen his son in this condition, years in fact. He felt so helpless having to watch his son go through this and not being able to really do anything. "Remember, _breathe_. Remember. In and out." His hand finally making contact with his back, trying to soothe him, calm him, anything. "I'm right here, Stiles. Just in two three four and out five six seven."

Time passed slowly after that as he hyperventilated on the ground but like all things it passed. His breathing started to even out. His heart no longer felt like it was in his ears but his head felt like it'd been hit with a hammer. Stiles moved from his kneeling position to sitting down on the ground, his back pressed against the SUV behind him. His father shuffled around to the front of him. "Need anything?" 

Stiles barely shook his head no. 

"It's going to be ok, Stiles." He spoke softly, trying to reassure his son of something. "We'll get through this."

Stiles wanted to laugh because what was there to get through? He was dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want you can follow me on tumblr dylanofuckme.tumblr.com!!!


End file.
